


A Favour

by Sarlania



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarlania/pseuds/Sarlania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon asks a small favour of Illya, who returns it with much enthusiasm in a manner Napoleon never expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Favour

“You owe me a favour,” Napoleon murmured in Illya’s ear as their breathing regularised. He ran a finger through his partner’s sweat soaked locks and tutted at the scowl that formed on those luscious puffy lips. “A promise is a promise. I held out for an hour and you will attend today’s meeting with me.”

Illya groaned and sat up. “Gregory? Of all the accountants Waverley could have assigned to Section Two, he has GOT to be the biggest bore – do I have to?”

Napoleon leaned back into the cushions with a self-satisfied smirk and watched Illya scramble on the floor for clothes. “Sorry partner. What quagmire I’m going to have to wade through later today, you must endure with me.”

A stream of Russian curses drifted out from the bathroom before a slamming door cut off an epithet about Napoleon’s ancestors.  


***

  
It was with much displeasure that Napoleon entered his office at ten to one to prepare for his meeting with Adam Gregory. Illya wasn’t in yet; the moment they arrived at headquarters his partner had muttered something about checking up on his experiments and wandered off. Napoleon hadn’t seen or heard from him ever since.

“Damn that blasted Russian,” Napoleon muttered.

“Missing me already, Tovarisch?”

The voice emanated from beneath the desk. Napoleon leaned down and saw his partner sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Illya!”

“I am commonly known by that name, yes.”

“Illya, what on earth are you doing down there?”

“Breaking the monotony of your meeting with Gregory,” smiled the Russian. “You did ask me to sit in, did you not? ”

“Yes but I didn’t mean for you to hide under my desk!”

“I am exercising innovation and originality. You see Napoleon, I’m conducting an experiment that I’ve been meaning to do for a _very_ , very long time.”

Napoleon cleared his throat nervously.

“Uh… Exactly what kind of experiment are you thinking of?”

“You’ll see,” purred Illya.

“But…” the door slammed open and Napoleon straightened up to see Gregory waddle in. He shook his head and tried his best to put Illya out of his mind.

“Ah, Mr Gregory! Please, do sit down. I’ve read over the papers you gave me last week and oh!”

There were hands – fingers – running up the side of his right leg and the purpose of Illya’s experiment became all too obvious. He felt the blood drain from his face.

“Mr Solo, are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

Napoleon smiled as disarmingly as possible while trying not to groan out loud as Illya’s fingers reached his inner thighs and softly caressing the flesh there. “Yes, yes, Gregory, I’m fine just…just a bit sore from that last mission.”

Gregory nodded sympathetically. Napoleon’s mind was screaming at him to cancel the meeting but his traitorous mouth refused to form the words. He winced as Illya’s fingers petted his now stiffening member through the fabric of his trousers before commencing on dismantling the bits of metal and plastic that held up the last remnants of his dignity. His breath hitched as a large calloused hand enveloped his member and the oh-so cleaver thumb danced on the head. The hands were starting to move now, one of them slowly pumping his cock as the other tugged at his balls. Try as he might, Napoleon could not help staring down at the strong powerful fingers perforating the darkness under the desk, working their magic and playing havoc with his now extremely fragile self-control.

Napoleon wondered what he must look like to Gregory, who was staring pointedly at the floor as he expostulated on the price of accommodation in New Zealand. Surely he could not fail to notice Napoleon’s heavy breathing and his flushed face and draw the obvious conclusion. Soon the news will spread that Solo had been so desperate for a fuck that he had hidden one of the secretaries under the table during an important meeting...

A sudden increase in Illya’s pace caused Napoleon to let out a little groan. Gregory jumped in his seat and turned crimson. Well, thought Napoleon drily, that’s my reputation gone…

“Ahhh Gregory…”

The accountant studiously avoided Napoleon’s glance. “Yes sir?”

“I think the uh…receipts from February… Inconsistencies. Yes?”

Gregory turned a deeper shade of pink. “Uh yes?”

“Yes. Go. Fix. Now.”

“Oh!” Comprehension shone through Gregory’s dull grey eyes. “Yes…yes sir. Shall I come back in half an hour?”

“One hour. Minimum.”  


***

  
As soon as the door closed behind Gregory, Napoleon bent forward and grasped a handful of Russian hair. Illya emerged from the darkness grinning like the Cheshire cat, his hands still busy around Napoleon’s cock.

“You crazy Russian! You were going to get me to come with Gregory still in the room, weren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, Napoleon.” The hands released him. “Did you want me to stop?”

Napoleon yanked his partner to his feet and slammed him against desk, noting with amusement that Illya’s pants were already undone. He trailed a series of ruthless kisses down Illya neck.

“Oh no Illya. You’re not getting off that easily. Since my reputation has already gone down the drain…”

“Pity,” murmured Illya without much conviction as Napoleon’s trail of kisses meandered downwards. “What is your plan, oh debauched soldier?”

“First, I’m going to suck you until you’re begging for release.”

Illya moaned breathlessly.

“Then, I am going to take you on this desk and I’m going to ride you senseless.”

“Sounds…good…” panted Illya.

“And in future…” Napoleon paused, his mouth half open around Illya’s cock.

“What? What? What?” Napoleon grinned at the desperation in Illya’s voice.

“In future I want you to attend ALL my meetings with Gregory.”


End file.
